Children of the Fae
by Ashes2
Summary: What humans call 'magic' is far more complex than what anyone from the Above had traditionally understood, and children taken to the Underground have never had much trouble assimilating into their new home. Toby was the only who ever returned, now Sarah is watching him get sicker with no understanding why. Eventual Jareth/Sarah pairing.
1. Prologue: The Oak Grove

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or any of its characters. Only the OCs are mine.

Author's note:So, I recently fell face-first into this fandom about two months ago after a moment of obligatory nostalgia from watching the new trailer for The Dark Crystal, and was truly shocked, _shocked,_ at how active Labyrinth fandom still is. I thought I might offer a _slightly_ AU modern fic, only in that if I put it in the movies original timeline that would make this fic take place in about 2003. Thing is, looking back on that time I can't help but think that the early 2000s were somehow more innocent and violent and naive all at once. It's not a cultural mindset I'm interested in indulging. So we're just going to shift forward a bit and blame it on time traveling goblins.

Currently not beta-ed. I'm sure I'm going use one here and I'm not sure how long this fic will be. For now I'm just going to throw it together and see what happens.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Prologue: The Oak Grove**

Damp leaves slid and smeared under shapeless leather slippers. She righted herself before losing her balance. Wiping a strand of long copper hair from her eyes, she shifted the child. Its weight was beginning to strain her arms. It was still daylight, but the thick fog made navigating the small copse near impossible. But what would it matter if she could see? She did not know this part of the forest. No one did. None had dared to disturb the old grandfather oak in generations. At least, none that lived to speak of it.

Her mother's mother told her stories, pasted on from her own mother's mother, of the white robed healers who once knew the secrets of these trees. But their kind had long since been slain by foreign warbands from the continent. They marched fervently, shouting of strength of their dead god and iron swords. Now, even they had abandoned the island, leaving the survivors with little more than the ruins of their war-forts and naught to eat. Too many fields had been sacked this past year. Too many seed caches plundered.

She had no standing in her home. Just an adaltrach, a stolen wife. Not even her husband's first. Taken by him and his clan brothers three summers before, after they had harvested the flax and found too much had grown for their own women to spin. Eventually, as was liable to happen in the presence of men, her belly grew and in her sixteenth autumn she birthed a son,

Not long after, the foreigners began coming to their shores. And these lean times grew leaner, so did her confidence in her husband's clan to feed her.

The fog parted and she saw it. The oak breathed power. It was surrounded by rings of mushrooms. White and red. Black and green. Some she knew to be poisonous. Others she'd never seen. The air was light and warm. Puffs of pollen danced in the air. Flowers of greater size and color than she'd seen in her young life crowded the forest floor. She took great care to step only in the grass.

Her arms tightened around the child. He was not yet a year old. She could not bear to give him a name, uncertain if he would ever become so.

The great gnarled roots of the tree were poised as if they would lift themselves out of the dirt. They held fast. Multicolored beetles scrambled out from under the crevices as she drew closer. Gently, she placed the child at the edge of the roots, and carefully stepped back. She sunk to her knees, the rich green grass likely staining her homespun skirts.

"Please…" Hot tears stung her eyes. Boney fingers tangled into the fabric of her dress. "Please take this child. He's not been baptised, nor been bled by Woden's war-priests. His father was cut down by thieves. He belongs to no one but me. And I can't feed him. I may not last the winter myself, but my son surely won't." She lifted her head, beseeching the tree and all within who might hear. "Whatever becomes of him…" Her breath hitched. "...let him be taken by the fairies. Let him have a full belly and warm bed. Just let him live."

Shakily, she stood and fled the sacred grove. She did not see the mismatched eyes glaring at her from the high branches. She did not know the contempt they could hold for a trespassing mortal. She did not know how little those eyes cared...until they saw her tears. Red skinned and ugly, he thought, these creatures should take more time to control their emotions. It was not pleasant to look upon. And to think, their were those among his people who thought their kind fair.

_That_, he thought fiercely, _shall never be me._

Silent feet slipped from oak branches, landing gracefully on the mossy ground.

"Hmm." spoke a contemplative voice. "What am I to do with you?"

He kneeled at the sleeping child, tilting his head as he took in it's palid appearance.

"You're a half-starved young thing, aren't you?" He let out a long defeated sigh. "Very well. I suppose I can be generous." He held up a finger warningly. "Just. This. Once." A delicate tap on the child's nose.

Lifting the child into his arms, he leapt back into the branches and retreated to his realm.

* * *

There was a particular form of chaos that was unique to a goblin's hovel. They were ravious little creatures that delighted in food, ale, and sex. Their homes were warm and their larders were bursting. In a goblin home, every night was a feast.

A roast pig was turning on a spit. Oils crackling as they dripped on coals below. A round green-skinned mother beat at the ball of dough on her table. Her children had been shooed outside a moment before and were now splashing about in the mud. She was not looking forward to the laundry.

"What am I to do wit 'im?" It was a piercing accusation. Hardly proprietous, given whom she was speaking to. "Them things live a knife's edge from death. Ain't natural how easily they drop."

Her king towered above her in the small kitchen, his lean form somewhat hunched as he casually rested a shoulder against the door frame. It was rather amazing he fit at all. His arms were crossed and his shoulders were draped in a shroud of tattered black silks.

_Them spiders have been weaving for 'im again, _she thought. _Don't know why he likes 'em so much. Could make better cloth in me sleep! Might be he's too polite to refuse 'em, likely._

"Suckle him at your breast." The was an implied 'obviously' in his haughty tone.

"You want me ta do wot?"

His face contorted into a somewhat condescending mask of impatience.

"A child needs milk. Your brood seems fat enough. Clearly you have more than enough to satisfy them."

Her eyes darted over to the wicker basket on the floor. The young life it held uneased her more than she was willing to admit. Mortals were well known to be violent and dangerous creatures. Civilized people had laws. Codes of conduct that were built from the fabric of reality itself. A word must match an action. It was a sacred unity that formed existence. Those _humans..._they'd found a way to crack that connection. They could violate nature and _lie._

Her watched her reaction, rolling his eyes.

"It is an _infant_. What harm could it possibly do to you?" He knelt at the basket in front of the fire, removing a single glove and holding out a finger for the boy to grasp.

"An infant monster." She rebutted. "It will grow. It will forge iron and poison me whole family!"

The boy gummed at her king's finger tip. Her king smiled warmly.

"Why would he do such a thing...if you are the only family he will ever know."

She sniffed, knowing the truth of his words.

"Me youngest isn't weaned yet." The old mother tried again. "I can't spare the milk."

Her king lifted his head slowly, his eyes narrowed.

"I know exactly how old each of your child are. If you haven't started her on a bit of bread by now, your not fit to be anyone's mother." He held up a gloved finger. "You'll not deceive me with your half-truths."

She silently watch her king interact with the manling. He conjured a bit string, dangling it above the child in play.

"Begging your pardon sire, but why'd you be caring for such a wild thing in the first place? Why does he matter to you?"

The king did not look up.

"Because I am a fool." He spoke softly. "Be a dear and be foolish with me, with you? Your sovereign commands it."

A long resigned exhale escaped her lungs. She looked over to the fire. It would need more wood soon. She'd have to send her sons out to the shed to fetch more. Truely, she loved her children. One more really couldn't hurt.

"...I suppose. But if he starts causing' mischief, you'll be taken 'im back and I don't much care where he goes."

Her king gave her a small grin.

"I sincerely doubt there's little you could not handle, my lady."

The goblin woman harrumphed at the honorific.

"I ain't no lady, and I don't take kindly ta be called one."

With a hand on his chest, the king bowed forward in apology as much as his crouched position allowed.

"So, he'll be needing a name, then?"

"It would appear so. I was given none, and if he knows of his true name, he is unlikely to share it with us for some time."

"How about 'Pot'?"

"'Pot'?" The king answered incredulously, his eyes scrunched up in distaste. "You cannot name a child 'Pot'. I forbid it!"

"Why not? Isn't that what they do, then? Given' their children simple names for simple things. So the 'fairy's don't steal them away'? As if we'd have a use for such things." The old mother grumbled. "If he's going to be staying 'ere, it's best to try and not separated him too much from his own heritage. It'll confuse him!"

"Even so!" the king answered sternly.

"Right then, 'ow about Unger?"

"_That_ is a _terrible_ name."

"Me great-uncle's name was Ungar!"

"And what sort of man was he?"

She thought about it for a moment.

"A right bastard, now that I think of it. No, that's no name to give to an innocent babe.

"You're not particularly good at this, are you?"

She shrugged.

"Me husband always took care of the naming. What would you call 'im, then?"

Her king quieted, still dangling the string above the boy. She watched, wondering if he was looking into the future, perhaps glimpsing who the child might one day be. Better to give an accurate name, and Fae of his caliber were usually more sensitive about such things.

Long moments past. Or rather, she assumed they did. The fire flickered more slowly. Her king and the boy hardly moved. The old woman snorted, busying herself in the kitchen while her king slowed time to think.

"Take your time, I suppose." She spoke more to herself than him.

"Darach." he said at last. "Call him Darach, for the oak tree he was given to us under." The king reach out long fingers to tuck a bit of blanket around the kid's neck. "For the moment he became one of us."

"Right, then." She leaned out her kitchen widow. "Boys! Bring in more wood for the hog. And come and meet your new brother. You two! I told you ta stay out of the mud!"

* * *

A/N: My random OTP of the week is the Goblin King as depicted by Lixxle (any of her fics, really) and Natalie Winn AKA Contra Points. I know Real Person Shipping is not always considered entirely kosher, but just think about it. They would be a power couple for the ages!


	2. A Forfiet of Fate

Authors's Note: I just read A Twisted Heart and Mind by FangamerBowiextreme. Oh my God, people. Just...oh my God. I felt like I needed a few days to recover a bit psychological equilibrium after that monster of a fic. If you are in this fandom, look into it. It's sooooo good. I feel like I have to recommend it because:

1 - It's one of the few Dark Jareth stories I can actually stand, so that alone is saying something. And…

2: It might be the longest fanfic the Laby fandom has produced. This thing is like reading two or three back to back Song of Ice and Fire novels. It's that epic.

I'm still not sure how I finished it in less than a month, but I'm pretty sure part of my strategy involved giving up on sleep and emotionally neglecting my husband. Maybe, if you can avoid it, don't do that.

* * *

**Chapter One: A forfeit of fate**

A frantic copper rodent skittered through the castile. It moved silently and swiftly. This mouse form was proving most convenient at the moment. There was no other shape he could wear that could get him through the palace walls as quickly.

Darach been gone three weeks from his perspective, on a minor mission of diplomacy requiring a court official. Not too long, but the moment he crossed the border into the Goblin Lands knew time had been altered here. Undergrounders on the whole did bother too much with such silly things as clocks and calendars, except as a curiosity. One only needed to inhale the air, touch the soil, scent the wind. The Land would tell you. There was no need for extraneous tools.

Altered time was not unusual on its own. It was only the amount of days that startled him. So many for him and so few for his home? At first it was little more than a passing oddity, but as he traveled through his homeland it became very clear that something had happened in the Goblin Kingdom. LIkely everyone of its citizens could feel it. The ancient forces of the Labyrinth had been used, and was done so with more power than he had ever felt. The lichens whispered to him of a girl and a peach. The goblins were drunkening singing of a champion. Stones bemoaned in lement of a human boy, doomed to return to a lifeless, colorless world.

Still he did not rush, knowing his king would have it all under control. Why worry?

When Darach reached the Castle, he understood his mistake. Oh, there was a bit of destruction inside the city walls, but it nothing worse than the last spring equinox. Goblin construction was erected and felled with surprising rapidity. No, it was the castile itself he heard. The halls were mourning.

_What could cause the _castile_ to cry out?_

There were no other people that he could find inside. The halls were wide and solitary, but for their weeping. It was as if everyone had been banished. That was why he now ran through the halls. That was why he ran straight to his king's side.

Darach found the Goblin King in his personal chambers. He shifted to his human form before throwing open the double doors. Bits of stairs hung in the air against an endless overcast sky.

_Perhaps some metaphors for climbing? Moving upward? Is this in reference to his owl form or was he trying to _force_ some variety of momentum?_ Darach scanned to the horizon, noting the destruction. _If so, it appears he was unsuccessful._

Smartly shifting to a more agile rodent (squirrel was of course his second favorite) he lept from creviss to concrete patch, until he found his king. The man sat on the floor of what looked like a corner of a room, hovering there in the vast expanse of nothing. His hand clutched at the neck of a crystalline decanter, it's stopper laying discarded at his feet. He was wearing a cloak of white feathers, the sort elegant court attire one donned for visiting monarchs and royal weddings.

Darach jump to the hovering floor, and returned to his human skin. He knelt at his king's side and put a hand on his shoulder.

"How many days have I been gone? Two?"

"Three." the Goblin King corrected, bringing the decanter to his lips.

Darach slumped next to him.

"And you couldn't hold the kingdom together without me?" Darach forced a laugh. He was met with stoney, tired eyes and a red stained face. He immediately regretted the attempt at levity. Darach cleared his throat awkwardly. "What happened here?"

His king squeezed his eyes shut. The tears rushed out.

"Am I nothing more than an imbecilelic fool?" His king's voice shook. "Do I only take what I want and give no care for what happens to others? Am I truly so selfish?"

Darach was unsure how to respond. He simply waited until his king finished shaking for long enough to speak.

"My lord." Darack spoke gently. "My friend...tell me what happened."

Jareth, the Goblin King, looked at his friend and wept as he told him of the human Sarah Williams.

* * *

**Seventeen years later**

Toby was in Michigan, and was stupid but she hated it. Doubly so, because next year he would move out and start his life. Oh, sure, they were still waiting on the acceptance letters, but he would be accepted _somewhere _and it was only a matter of time. Then he would leave and Sarah would become a good old fashioned empty-nester.

It had been only them for nearly ten years. Just the two of them. Sarah never planned on being anyone's mother, but life happened and she stepped up.

Bachelor's degree completed, the immediate following July found her back in her childhood bedroom, in front of a mirror she's spent many years diligently not thinking about. She still hadn't found her own place yet after school, and intended on staying there for just the summer. Toby and Sarah indulged in an evening of baking chocolate chip cookies and watching the worst sixties era scary movies they could find. It'd been their thing for years, horror that was not quite horror. Danger that never truly harmed. For her it brought to mind other places she never could quite forget dwell too much on any more, and for Toby...well, Sarah's lived under the desperate assumption there was little a child of his age could remember from then.

Her father and step-mother were never meant to come home on their ninth anniversary night. But one drunk driver and a roadside cliff later her family was now short two members and she and her brother had slept right through it.

They didn't find out until the next morning. The police sent their mandatory two officer death notification squad and Sarah never forgave them for it. She never did much like cops after that, youtube videos notwithstanding. If her little interdimensional romp (that was, at best, the only language she possessed to name it) hadn't given her good hard dose 'never let Toby out of your sight', becoming his legal guardian at the age of twenty-two had certainly done the trick. That, combined with an absent mother she hadn't spoken to in a decade and a half, had created the perfect storm for her to somewhat hyper-latch on to her baby brother.

And it wasn't so bad, raising her brother. He had some health issues, but who didn't these days. It was the sort of general low energy tiredness that no doctor had yet been able to diagnose. Apart from a low iron count, nearly every test he ever had came back negative. He was, on paper, a typical teenage boy.

At home though, she saw the cracks. He didn't have much of a social life. After his schoolwork and band practice was finished all he ever did was sleep. Which, she knew was simply what normal teenagers _did,_ but his sleep was rather all encompassing.

"I'm not depressed." he assured her. "It's not like I can't get up and do things, it's not like that. I'm just...tired all the time."

She had him tested for thyroid disease after that. And then vitamin deficiencies. And food allergies. Everything came back negative. Though, she had to admit, it wasn't as if he wasn't living his life. Toby had always been a bit shy, a little nerdy. A prototypical band kid who got straight A's in science class and didn't know what he wanted to study in college. Either way, all she could do was support him.

Perhaps it was just the whole world. Every time she turned on the news all Sarah wanted to do was take a nap. If she were completely honest, even she was beginning to feel more and more tired herself.

It was a band trip that pushed her over the edge. He's never been one for long trips away from home, so was the first time in litteral years that she'd gone more than ten days without seeing him. She wasn't proud of slipping into the fung of cliche, but while he'd been gone she'd done nothing but throw herself into her work. Dramaturgy being one of those professions that never seemed to end, Sarah confined herself to that place of distracted malaise, hands and eyes on automatic. It was fine. There was always _something_ the theater company needed her to research.

The worst part was he was gone during his birthday. Eighteen years old last week. She was granted a quick phone call with him that day, but not much else. So she was stuck here trying and failing to just _let it go_. Whatever else he was, Toby was also a teenager. It was not strange for the teenage boy to be around people who were not his big sister. She sat at her desk for two days repeating these thoughts.

But, regardless of what Sarah chose to do with the information, there were still certain truths about reality she could never unlearn. There was a part of her that never fully stopped looking into the dark, ready for battle if she saw something looking back.

* * *

A modest oak door creaked loudly as it was swung open from the inside. Hard uneven eyes met a youthful placating smile.

"A gift." said Darach. "From my mother." Pale hands dusted with freckles the color of stars held up a squat glass bottle. "Pear cider mixed with fresh juboa juice." The bottle bearer let himself in. "Her strictest instructions were that it _must_ be drunk within the hour."

The room inside not large. Glass walls curved inwards at delicate incline, giving the room a slightly spherical shape. Sunlight filtered in through open windows, bathing the room in a hazy yellow. Various birds were fluttering in and out, resting on the branches of a fruit tree. Today it bore cherries.

He turned to see his king, one hand supporting his weight still in the door frame, letting out a belegured little huff. He was wearing knee-length form fitting leather coat over a black linen shirt. His animal hide boots had only minor embellishments. Hardly a jewel of any kind in sight. Rather simple, for him. Traditionally, that did not bode pleasant tidings.

"I...could use a drink, I suppose."

"Wonderful." Darach clasped his hands together. "Do you have glasses?"

"Drawer." The king nodded to a short cabinet that not there a moment ago.

"Oh, there we are!" Two crystal glasses were easily procured, and not a moment too soon, both filled with a deep purple drink. Two men settled on opposite sides of a desk that was somehow just large enough to be serviceable and far more ornate than necessary. Brass and silver inlay danced around each other in a dizzying circuitous pattern.

"Now then," Said the younger to the older. "What is it that's had you so _mopy_ these past few days? You've hardly spoken to anyone besides the song birds and a cricket or two."

The accusation was not unfounded. He's barely left his office all week. The people of the underground prefered their king to walk among them. Most days it was quite flattering. His people liked their king well enough to _want_ to see him. In most cultures was generally considered a good thing. Today, for himself, he wanted only peace. Possibly a little solitude. The only ones he couldn't avoid were those that came directly to him, and that mostly consisted of the birds and flying insects arriving through his windows.

The king sipped. His leather glove made a small sound as he squeezed the glass a touch too hard. His passed over a range of expressions, from guarded, to guilty, to sad. He set the glass down a bit too roughly.

"The boy is dying."

"...oh." said with dark understanding. "...well. I see."

Angry mismatched eyes flickered up, before shutting in frustration. He picked up the glass and threw back the rest of the drink.

"My lord, that's not…" he stopped, seeing the glass was already empty.

The king looked at the glass, then his companion.

"...don't tell your mother I did that."

"Of course. She tan both our hides for not savoring her hard work." A light sip from his own glass. "What will you do...about the human."

The king laughed humorlessly.

"_Which_ human, my friend? I seem to have two of them on my hands." The king stood, aggressively pacing the room. "And if I were to speak to her, what would remember of me but the idiotic ramblings of a love-drunk _moron_. I have given her no reason to trust me. She will think me a thief, there only to finish what I started when he was a child." He stopped, gazing out a curve window. "I was cruel, and now that child must suffer for it. At the least, I owe them the truth." He shook his head ruefully. "Even if they will not have it."

A thoughtful finger tapped against a wine glass.

"How old is the boy now." An innocent curious tone.

"He is eighteen years old."

"And..do many of them die at that age?"

"So many…" said a flat, lifeless voice. "All the time. But he was not doomed to that. The healthy ones can live up to five times that. Two decades...that's hardly a life at all."

"Hmm." he spoke into his cup, nodding sympathetically. "It is unfair."

A sparrow landed on the desk. She jumped excitedly a few times, giving a quiet questioning caw..

"Madam, " Darach spoke politely over his glass. "Now, I know you and your husband are trying for an egg. It would not do for you to be drinking."

The sparrow let out an irritated mewling noise before flying off.

"You will see her?"

"Yes." the king answered. "Today. There is no more time."

"Oh. Well I wish you the greatest luck!" It was a response so cheerful it was almost harsh.

_But,_ thought the king. _This young pup hardly knows any other emotion._

"I don't suppose there's anything I can do to help?"

"No." bade the king. "I doubt even luck will be of use against _this_ woman." A tight determination crossed his features. "I made this bed. I will lie in it." He stood, leaving the room in long hard strides. "Do close the door on your way out."

Darach blinked, watching his retreating king.

"...well, then. More for me, I suppose." He poured himself another glass.

* * *

A week later, for Sarah, it the same. The trip had been planned for three weeks, starting just after graduation.. It was last summer he would spend at band camp, unless he wanted to become a counselor. It was his choice, of course, but that didn't seem like his style. Toby wasn't much of energetic go-getter. Maybe he could have been if he had more stamina. That wasn't a version of her brother she'd ever seen, if it existed.

He was supposed to come home that night. Later in the evening around maybe ten, he'd texted. Actually, they'd be back around six, but Kyle's mom was having a barbeque and could she _please_ not make a big deal out of it? He was already delaying college for a year so they could his weird health problems first and be able to handle the course load with a full tank.

What could she say to that? He was eighteen and likely already thought she was a bit over protective. Sarah would never describe herself that was, exactly. She was just...cautious. After all, Toby was all she had left.

The world dropped out from under her when she got the call.

"Ms. Williams? This is the Twin Lakes General Medical. You were listed as the emergency contact for a Toby Williams? His school provided us with the number." The quick clacking of distant keyboard flickered over the phone. "He was admitted to the hospital at 7:26 pm."

She never heard what was said after. Keys in hand, her next thought was she had to remember how unsafe it was to speed in the rain. Her next one after that was she'd dropped her phone.

Whether it was the adrenaline or the thunder storm, she could swear that parking at the hospital worse than ever. When Sarah exited her car she couldn't feel the sopping rain. Events happened in short disconnected segments. Receptionist's Desk. Room 4060. Nursing Station. Toby. Still. Oxygen mask over his mouth.

"He collapsed. We haven't figured out what caused it yet. His iron count is a little low, but his oxygen saturation isn't going over ninety-two percent. If it goes down further, he's at risk for hypoxia."

Sarah sat in a chair numbly nodding. The doctor may have said more, but all she could recall later was a dull humming noise, like a television in the next room. Not quite close enough to understand

"Toby…" What could she say? _I didn't protect you?_ How could she protect from this? "I just...could I have a minute?"

"Of course." the doctor silently left.

She had him tested for _everything!_ All his doctors said he was fine! How did this happen? She felt tears on her hands before she noticed them on her face.

"It's not…" Sarah wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"Fair?" emerged a voice from all sides. "In this case, I truly agree."

When Sarah was fifteen, she learned the _scent_ of magic. She'd long since accepted there was little accuracy in what humans had recorded about such things (which was made her so skilled at her job in the first place) after consuming every book she could find on the topic in her local library. In those days, she would take the bus to the next town over and do it again. After she got her first job, it was the same at the bookstore. Then her university library. All she ever found were vague new age self help guides and mythology texts clearing written after a few hundred years of verbal telephone. What she read did not match her experience. All Sarah Williams got from the experience was the ability to research with the passion of a mother lion.

She could confidently say she'd only ever experienced that scent on one particular day and no other time. The feel of it, though... pinpricks of electricity on wind that was somehow both too hot and too cold, the fleshy _slap_ of a reptile connecting with her cheek and the icy smell that followed as it disintegrated into iridescent dust before it hit the floor…These were things that no matter how much time had past would always be crystal clear. That scent hit her now.

Hospitals were, by default, brightly lit. There were no corners to hide in, no alcoves of darkness to emerge from. He simply took a step, the drab stock painting and the white wall below it were cut into the shape of man. He was dressed in tight leather pants and a long light brown coat. Hair and _eyes_ like she could never forget.

Sarah jumped out of the chair, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream as she backed into the fourth floor window. The cheap aluminum blinds cumpled a bit as her hand grasped out for purchase.

His hair shimmered like starlight under the fluorescent lights. She would not have noticed he was walking toward her if weren't the loud percussive echo of his boots. He stopped at the foot of the bed, gaze fixed on her brother.

"Not long now, is it?" he spoke gravely.

Green eyes squinted in a hybrid stance of horror and confusion. Tongue dry and shoulders shaking with unfamiliar with emotions.

"Wh...what…" her voice shook. Sarah closed her eyes, swallowed and tried again. "What. Are you. Doing here?"

Inhuman eyes gracefully slid her direction. As he did so, all tension was released from his face. He looked at her with a baffling softness.

"Hello...Sarah." Her name was little more than a whisper on his lips.

Her limbs surged in anger. She pushed off from the window and took a defiant step forward. Years of barely restrained anxiety rushed out in low hissed words.

"You can't be here." She growled. "I won."

"I remember." He spoke with a sad smile. "Your brother is dying." He tilted his head toward Toby. "Do you know why?"

Her rage was temporarily halted, replaced by confusion.

"Dying?" she parroted, her voice cracking. Sarah swallowed a small sun-burst of shame, before closing her eyes and, somewhat aggressively, licking her lips. "From what, Goblin King?"

His gaze slowly scanned her face quizzitively.

"Perhaps...in this case I should be grateful you do not use my name." He leaned towards her, eyes wide and searching. "I know you know it."

Her chest rose and fell with audible breathing.

"Answer. Me." spoken through clenched teeth.

He walked around the hospital bed, attention now on Toby.

"We...do not have a word for it." He paused, glancing at her through the periphery of his vision. "What do you call a seed that does not grow? Or a flower that never blooms?" He looked at her. "What word do your people give to a child that cannot _be_, for he is racked with what might be called illness...but none can be found?"

Sarah sucked in a breath.

"Ah." he continued. "You know of what I speak."

She pressed a hand to her mouth. Fresh tears slid down her face as she collapsed into the chair.

"They never…" her voice shook. "I kept telling them to test him, but they never found any thing."

"Your physicians would not have understood, even if they knew what they were looking for." His sorrowful answer.

"You!" She jumped from her chair. "You did this!"

His gaze, somehow both hard and tired, did not leave her unconscious brother's body.

"I suppose I am to blame."

Sarah felt her shoulder shake in rage.

"Is this some ploy to get me to come back with you. Why else would be here?" She was shouting now. "It won't work! I defeated you when was a kid, and sure as hell won't let you win now!"

"Hmm." It was long and low. He took a single commanding step in her direction. "In my _very_ long experience, your people are not particularly skilled at games of memory. Does that hold true for memories of _importance_, dear Sarah?"

"What are you getting at?" She tried to take a step back, forgetting the chair and nearly tripping over it.

"Do you remember _me_ as anything other than your own…" Another step. "...personal…" Step. "...antagonist?" He stood in front of her, towering above her. "As difficult as it might be for you to wrap your little _mortal_ brain around the concept," He leaned into her, until she fell more than sat, into the chair. He gripped the arm rests. "I might try and remind you, _Sarah,_ not everything is about you." A look of disgust crossed his face. "I would never harm a child. Regardless of what I wanted. _That_ is your race's forte."

He left her space as quickly as he entered it, leaving her feeling more than a little chastised. After all, how could she deny his words? She knew what humans were capable of. Sarah took a moment to calm her breathing before speaking. She did not look at him.

"And what about adults?"

The king crossed his arms, his attention once again on Toby.

"You accuse me of wishing you harm as well? Woman, you have no idea to whom you speak."

"No. Not me, Toby. What will you do to him now?"

He did nothing less than side-eye her, his eyes squinting in confusion. After a beat, he looked to Toby, then back at her.

"Surely your people cannot could him an adult?"

"He's eighteen."

"He hasn't even reached his full height yet!"

"He's _eighteen!"_ Sarah gestured with her hands erratically. "Don't your people have an age of majority?"

"They are adults…" he let out a tired breath. "...when they are done growing. When they can face the world with a bit of dignity rather than chaotic misplaced energy. What child of '_eighteen'_ is capable of that?"

She scowled at him.

"We seen to manage just fine up here."

He threw her a disapproving glare.

"You ask much of your children. No wonder you people have so many problems."

The heavy surrealness of the situation hit her hard. He hadn't seen her in seventeen years. The last memory she had of the Goblin King was him begging her, rather specifically for something at the time she had no concept of. All she knew was in an adolescent moment of stupidity she had released a _wish_ that she could not take back. A _wish_ granted by the man in front of her now. A man who had made it clear, even if she didn't understand it at the time, that he wanted her as some sort of child bride. He wanted her then. Now he was arguing with her that her younger brother, who is older now than she was then, didn't qualify as an adult. She felt the rage building again.

"Then what did you want with me?" Her words were deceptively calm. She rose slowly out of the chair. "Was I not also a child, Goblin King?"

He didn't look at her. Instead he let out a rather forceful sigh. She watched the muscles in his jaw clench and ripple.

"Nothing. I wanted nothing from you."

"_Bullshit!_ I remember too, Goblin King. I have never forgotten your words. All that 'fear me, love me' stuff? I've spent my life trying to understand them! I _looked_ for your words. In every book I find. No one else has ever recorded anything like it." Sarah saw him shift his weight uncomfortably. "No one else who's live to record it, anyway.

He turned to her abruptly.

"What _exactly_ is your _point_?"

"That from what I could gather, and believe me, I've gathered a great deal of information, you people don't even like humans, except for maybe the odd baby or virginal maiden you spirited away to God only knows where. Is that what we were for you? Two for the price of one? Another goblin for your armies and a pretty little plaything for you to look at?"

"_You!_" He lowered his face inches from her. A fist tipped with an angry finger the only thing in between them. He spoke in a low growl. "You do not know of what you speak."

Sarah lifted her chin to him defiantly.

"Then what do you think of humans. Goblin King."

"Your kind disgusts me!" He all but spat the words. "The cruelty you show to your own land, your seas, your forests, the very air! You have no respect for even what your survival depends on. No, you're all to busy _murdering_ each other to look up and see the mess you made." He turned his back to her, running a hand over his face.

"Why are you here?"

_Such a human question,_ he couldn't help think. He slowly turned back to her.

"Because, regardless of what _you_ think, _I_ am capable of something other than cruelty." His gaze returned to Toby, voice becoming soft. "And because one way or another, we must all pay for our choices."

Sarah didn't remember speaking. Just general disbelief and confusion, which must have clearly written all over her face.

"Children do not leave the Underground." He answered her unspoken question. "Your brother was the only one who ever did."

"_What?_" she whispered. "But...that's not…" Sarah closed her eyes, taking in a calming breath. "I had your book. That's not what it said."

"Oh, that charming little piece of fiction?" He brushed off her words with a dismissive hand. "Pay it no mind."

"But...that can't be right. It was the only book I ever found that…"

"That what?" He turned to her harshly.

"...got _anything_ right." She finished weakly.

"And yet…" he answered sternly. "...still somehow managed to get so much wrong." His brilliant eyes shone with centuries of pent up rage. "Here is the only truth that matters. You _humans_, you throw your unwanteds at us, then _blame_ us for taking them. And we accept them, because the alternative of leaving an innocent to suffer is_ unthinkable_!" He let out an angry shuddering breath, turning away and again stepping loudly to the other side of the hospital bed. His pensive stare at her brother held for more emotion than she knew how to decipher. His next words were quiet. "_I_ am not the enemy you think me to be. I offer you no lie. Your brother cannot survive here."

She felt her neck and shoulders tighten as heavy dread twisted in her stomach.

"Explain."

"As I said," He lifted his head a fraction her direction, but did not look away from Toby. "...we have no word for it, for how does one describe the very essence of life itself. Suffice it to say this realm does not hold enough of that Light."

"Are you talking about magic?" Sarah breathed.

He rolled his eyes, his gaze landing on her.

"If you like, but that is a poor description for that which encompasses all of existence. It is the _Light_. My realm simply has more of it than yours. And therein lies the issue at hand." He pointed to Toby. "A child exposed to such power with inevitably be permanently altered by it. His flesh craves it. And here, there is so very little of what he needs. Toby is, for lack of a better term, _starving_ to death."

"How…" Fists shaking with rage at her sides, Sarah found it almost too difficult to speak. She closed her eyes and started again. "Why have you waited until now to say anything? When he's literally laying in a coma?"

Another heavy sigh, his arms laying limply at his sides.

"Would you have believed me if he were not? There is nothing I wanted less. By my people's custom, he is not yet an adult. I will not take what is not freely given."

"Then why did you take him in the first place? Why did you give me chance to win him back?"

He closed his eyes.

"It no longer matters."

"That's not an answer, Goblin King. Tell my why!"

"Because you weren't supposed to win!" he ground out. "Adapting to the Underground, to the Light, is easy for a child. After a certain age the _cruelty_ of your world poisons everyone of you. I thought…" He looked away. "I thought a girl of your age would be an easier opponent. I thought you young enough to still to be taken. I acted with trickery, yes. But know this, _human._ Fae do not lie. I could not go back on my word."

Sarah felt herself wilt before him. She wrapped her arms around her middle.

"_I_ did this?" She looked at her brother, her breath hitching. "When I beat the Labyrinth, I did this to him?" Her eyes burned. There was some amount of pity on his face when she looked up at him.

"We both did, Sarah."

She collapsed into the chair, shaking her head in horror.

"No...he can't…" Her wide glistening eyes stated him down. "How long does he have?"

He stepped back, twisting around and giving the hospital room a thorough evaluation.

"This place reeks of death." he answered mildly. "I would have thought you understood, if you brought him here." He glanced back at her silent glare. "A few hours at most. Your brother will not last the night."

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, tears falling down her cheeks.

"What you're saying is...he either dies here tonight…" She wiped her face with a coat sleeve. "...and I lose him . Or…"

"I can take him back to the Underground...and you lose him." A sympathetic grimace covered his face. "As I said, it is unfair."

Shaking with silent sobs, Sarah watched her brother. For a moment there was no sound but the course ambient beeps of the machines hooked up to Toby. Nothing but the overwhelming despair she felt from his words.

"He's...he's all I have left." She hadn't realized she'd said it out loud, until she looked up and saw something akin to guilt on the Goblin King's face.

"If you allow me to take him…" Solemn heavy words, spoken so thickly Sarah felt them reverberate through her chest. "...I can promise he will live."

She stared up at him through glossy eyes.

"What kind of life would he have there?" She was not proud of how much her voice wavered.

His face took on a gentler tone then, and Sarah found herself wondering if maybe her childhood fears were perhaps not so founded.

"That is entirely up to him. But he will live."

There...simply was no choice. Not when he put it like that. Even so, the thought of never seeing him again was beyond devastating. She wiped at her face angrily with her palms.

"Could he...come visit?"

"That would be entirely unwise. Tell me, how long has he been ill?"

"...his whole life."

"Yes. That is my point." The was a dark finility his words. Sarah didn't like it one bit. "This world cannot keep him alive. He will need time to recover his strength."

"For how long?" Her brow creased as she dreaded where this was headed.

"Decades, at least."

She felt her limbs to numb. Her tongue formed words she didn't remember trying to speak.

"Take me with you."

A strange series of emotion to fast for her to process ran through his face, before settling on distrust.

"No. _No!_ That is absolutely out of the question."

"...please...I don't have anyone else..."

"I came here for one purpose." He interrupted her. "To make amends for a wrong done to a child. You are not dying. He is. I will redress what has been done, but no more." He looked her up and down with nothing less than derision. "I'm not here for you. Your kind has no place in my world."

Sarah was sobbing now.

"_Please, Jareth!"_ She heard in suck in a breath at the sound of his name. "I don't have anyone else. It's been just me and him for _years!_" She looked down at her hands. "He was going to go to college. I knew he was going to leave. It's normal. _I know that! _But at least I would be able to see him again." She looked back up. "I don't have anyone else. And neither does he."

"He will have many people." countered the king.

"All of them strangers! He going to wake up in a strange place with no idea what's going on. And...I never told him. He deserved to hear what happened. He deserves to hear it from me."

The Goblin King huffed out angry breaths. He turned and paced the room, lifting a hard index finger jutting out in her direction.

"You would leave all that you know behind, at this very moment? Turn and flee from everything you have ever held dear? All to be at his side?"

"I would. _Nothing_ I have is more dear to me than him."

"I can promise you very little," he countered. "I warn you, fae do not trust humans."

"I seemed to do just fine last time."

"You had my protection last time. And you were a child. You will not be so easily loved _this time_." His hard challenging eyes cut into her. "Is not your own world easier?"

Sarah look at Toby, instinctually shaking her head.

"Not without him."

A moment passed as he evaluated her.

"I will have your oath." he commanded. "You will swear upon your name. Upon your very flesh that you will cause no harm, through action or inaction, not by stone or iron, not by water or air. Swear to me that the people of the Underground shall never be brought to injury by your mortal whims."

"I...why would I hurt anyone there?"

"_Swear it!" _He shouted._ "_Or I have nothing more to say to you!"

"_Okay_, Jesus. I swear it."

Her left wrist seared in hot white pain. She cried out, clawing at it with her other hand.

"_Shit!" _Sarah looked down at her burning skin. An intricate scar in the shape of Celtic knot now circled her wrist. "What...is this?" She whispered as burning subsided. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Call it...insurance. Should you break your oath, you name shall be lost and you flesh shall burn. It will never end and no one will come to save you."

She started at him silently for a beat.

"...that seems like overkill."

"Yes, well. Humans have a habit of saying one thing and doing another. I, however, will not be lied to." He reached out to her, but did not touch her. "Now, take my hand and seal your fate, mortal. We will see if you are satisfied with your choice."

The barest moment of hesitation passed. Sarah slowly lifted her hand, placing it the palm of his warm leather glove.

Heavy rain lashed at the window pane. _Tink tink tink. _Electrical alarms sounded in the hospital room, the young man in their charge no longer attached to the various sensors. Two humans left the earth plane, never to return.

Authors's Note: Chapter Title is a nod to the classic Laby fanfic A Forfeit of Dreams, which, like seventeen years later, I'm still not over. If you want to read, it's only on AO3 at the moment.


End file.
